Page 53 of My Real Love Affair

But I also knew that facing off against a brand was a risk. I didn’t want to earn the label of being difficult or litigious but my entire career was on the line. I had to fight back.

We stepped out of the elevator and walked past reception. People didn’t question him. He led me down a hallway lined with offices and into a massive conference room at the end. And when I say massive, I mean obscenely large. The table could have seated twenty people. Two walls were entirely windows, offering stunning view of the city. Another wall was covered in screens, currently displaying what looked like legal documents. And seated around the table were approximately seven people in suits.

My stomach dropped. “Austin,” I whispered. “You didn’t mention there would be this many people.”

“Legal team, their legal team, some executives from Femme Curve. Don’t worry.” He squeezed my arm. “I’ve got you.”

A woman at the head of the table stood—late forties, severe black suit, the kind of face that probably made opposing counsel cry. “Mr. Bancroft. And you must be Ms. Stephens. I’m Margaret Piper, counsel for the Bancroft family.”

We went through introductions. Margaret’s team consisted of three other lawyers who all looked sharp enough to cut glass. Then the Femme Curve delegation, which included their CEO, COO, and their legal counsel, two men whose names I immediately forgot.

Austin pulled out a chair for me, then sat beside me. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched. I was grateful I had dressed professionally. Everyone else in the room looked like they belonged. This was all so normal for them.

For me? This was the most intimidating thing I’d ever done.

Margaret started speaking, laying out the situation in crisp legal terminology. Contract review, breach identification, and damages assessment. I tried to follow along, but my brain was spinning.

Then I felt it. Austin’s hand on my thigh under the table. It was oddly reassuring and settled my nerves.

I leaned toward him, keeping my voice low. “There aren’t any cameras here. No onlookers. You can tone it down.”

He turned his head, his lips close enough to my ear that I felt his breath when he spoke. “Who says this is for show?”

My heart kicked against my chest.

He gave my leg a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I’ve missed you. Is that so wrong?”

“Rule number two,” I murmured. “No flirting in private.”

“Is a conference room really private though? There are like ten other people here.”

“Austin,” I warned.

He chuckled then removed his hand. “Fine. But for the record, you look beautiful, and I’m glad you’re here.”

I could still feel where his hand had been. The casual intimacy of the gesture.

Focus, Melody. This is a business meeting.

Margaret was still talking, now directing her attention to Femme Curve’s legal team. “As you can see from the documentation we provided, there are multiple contract violations. Most notably, unauthorized image manipulation without client approval, which directly violates Section Three, Paragraph Seven of the talent agreement.”

One of Femme Curve’s lawyers cleared his throat. “The contract does include language about final image approval.”

“Final image approval forcampaign selection,” Margaret cut him off smoothly. “Not approval for digital alteration of thetalent’s physical appearance. Ms. Stephens was never shown the edited images. Never given the opportunity to approve or reject the alterations. That’s a clear breach.”

“We maintain that the editing was industry standard.”

“Industry standard?” Austin’s voice was deceptively casual, but I heard the steel underneath. “Is it industry standard to edit someone’s body without their knowledge when they’re literally being hired to represent body positivity? Didn’t you hire her because you wanted to appeal to the audience Miss Stephens caters to?”

I felt like I was watching a tennis match, my eyes bouncing back and forth between the speakers. All of them were talking about me like I wasn’t sitting in the room.

The CEO shifted uncomfortably. “Mr. Bancroft, I think we can all agree this was an unfortunate miscommunication.”

“Miscommunication?” I finally found my voice. “I explicitly stated in my initial meetings with your team that authentic representation was non-negotiable. That I wouldn’t work with brands who edited bodies. Your marketing director took notes. She agreed to my terms.”

The COO jumped in. “Ms. Stephens, we absolutely hear your concerns. And we want to make this right. Which is why we’re prepared to offer you a settlement.” She slid a document across the table. “We think you’ll find this more than fair compensation for any distress caused.”

I picked up the paper. Read the number. My brain turned to complete mush.